(( Yeah This Is My Sb Mike Tag LMAO )) - Tumblr Posts
HE HAS NOT BEEN ANYONE'S SON IN A LONG TIME. Hasn't been anyone to anyone in a long time: most people dead and gone or worse when Mike has been dragged back, unwillingly, once more from death to ruin his father's schemes. NO REST FOR THE WICKED, BOY: STAND UP STRAIGHT. DON'T SLOUCH NOW. MAKES YOU LOOK WEAK, A LITTLE KID. Draws blood with how hard his nails dig into his palm, hardly able to breathe even without the visage change from the other. His father. His own grey eyes not even widened, not even surprised, at the sight: glossy and dry with resignation. That's what you are, aren't you ? My son. " Maybe once, " he says, unwilling, blood run cold at the glitch's words; from forty to fourteen Mike will always be Michael, will never escape the role of the eager, reaching son.
Compared to the other's fluid, graceful movements, the man is robotic. Recognize his face anywhere, huh ? Mike hasn't known his reflection in decades. His body, stiff, lurches back when the creature that is his father learns, and suddenly, for all the noise and clamor of the Pizzaplex, he feels very alone. Eyes dart to the room opening, waiting for someone to come by, see the situation, save him from this: but there's nobody here but him. And his father. His father who looks like his father and for all his age and the own decaying decrepit form, Michael is a little boy again. Staring, helpless, at a role model a disappointment of a parent the bane of his existence a sad, unstable man who just can't let go Dad Michael feels something within him fracture. insides scooped out again, no sister to speak of. Is he proud of his son ? [...] Still standing after everything ?
Hey, he learned how to cling to life from the best.
" I have nothing to say to you. " The words come out with more fervor and less dignity than he'd hoped. A fox cornered. " Last time I checked, you're just a virus. Leftovers from an old man's overdue death. " His smile is flat and frozen, exposes chipped tooth from childhood and more scars from his scooping. " Yeah, last standing. And I'm gonna keep it that way. What is this? -- One more grab at immortality, huh ? Predictable. " Body creaks and groans when he stands straighter, squaring old, stitched shoulders. Make up for how small, how grotesque, he feels in the face of his father in prime life.
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” [hear me out: apprentice michael pulling away from his father’s clutches, only to be drawn back to spring/glitchtrap….]
🔧 @runeians !
"why?" is the faint answer of glitchtrap. arms raised, with palms upward on either side of widened grin. a grin which cocks to the side, jarringly. question sounding far too genuine even for his own liking. his wide, purple eyes blinking animatedly.
"that's what you are, aren't you? my son." his voice resembled springtrap's if not for the influence of his newfound digitization, now knock, knock, knocking at the door of his son's mind. inflected just so. all michael has ever wanted, was his approval. perhaps the big picture he had missed when withholding it too much as a flesh and bone man. but now, he sees all. hands gesticulating, and landing with a curious finger curled under his jaw.
hands flourish in to rest on one hip, the other finger extending to point with a sway. all fluid motions. "don't try and hide from it now, boy. you might have aged, but i'd recognize that face anywhere." he easily leans against a surface beside him, elbow propped with ankles crossed. nonchalant. "quite funny how things work out, isn't it?"
he glitches in and out. his form becoming more and more distorted, until the image of his old self appears stark before the man standing before him.
in the same position, teeth show in a lazily lidded-eyed grin. "the last afton standing." he says, chuckling lowly. foot bouncing as the image of the elder afton in his patriarchal prime stares back at the rotting visage of his boy.